


Against All Odds

by Glittering_Mess



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Betrayal, Child Murder, Dubious Morality, F/F, F/M, Forbidden Love, Misunderstandings, Moral Dilemmas, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Same-sex pairings, also love betw leaders of different Clans, also straight pairings, love betw Dark Forest and StarClan cats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 15:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glittering_Mess/pseuds/Glittering_Mess
Summary: Meadowsong is a StarClan cat, chosen to deliver a new, wretched prophecy. Why can't they just tell the Clans outright what theymean, instead of letting them go round and round like dogs chasing their own tails? They'd save a lot of trouble if StarClan was more sensible in the things they did.Ottersplash is an ancient Dark Forest cat with a hidden past, not at all like the rest of the evil spirits that stalk the shadows.When the two cross paths, an unlikely romance is created, one which will test Meadowsong's loyalty to StarClan and convince her to place the Clans' fates in her own paws.The dead should stay dead, it is said. Their stories are over. But for Meadowsong, hers is only beginning.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Only the prologue is in First Person and the rest is Third Person, so bear with me. I apologize, I originally intended it to be just the first, but then realized that it'd sound better for the story to flow like an actual Warriors book.

You probably expect me to give you some sort of prophecy, don't you.

What? Isn't that what usually happens in the beginning? Some StarClan cat or other is off to deliver a vague, hardly useful message to a living Clanmate -  
Well, _of course _there's a prophecy. There always is. It's unavoidable in the grand scheme of things, unfortunately.  
Anyways, I can sense you are here with me, whoever you are, watching, listening. It's a bit creepy, actually, the way you spy on cats' lives like that.  
  
Now you are wondering who I am, and I have forgotten that you cannot see me either. So, I will make a picture with words.  
I am gliding across vast starry places with paws so light that they nearly don't touch the ground. And perhaps I _am _flying, soaring noiselessly through space and through the night. The stars cast a glowing light against my ghost-white fur, and their reflections catch in my green pools for eyes.  
All around, the swathes of starry pinpricks blink silently above me in the dark patch of night. A crescent moon, as thin and curved as a claw, looms above like a watching eye.  
Though my movements are graceful, I am frantic. I have been tasked with a very important prophecy to deliver.  
It goes like this:

_With fire in the sky and red-tainted water, the end of the forest looms near. There will be an enemy of the Clans in_  
_ your midst - bloody fangs, wretched claws, bringer of death and striker of fear. Be it fox, badger, rat, or dog,_  
_ rogue or cough, flood or monster - only it can truly bring peace to the four Clans once more._

I have a strong distaste for prophecies. Things happen whether you foretell them or not, so why bother? And the words make no sense half the time either, all thistledown and rabbit brains.  
Even so, I am the chosen one and I must make an effort.

All is still in the ThunderClan camp. It is awashed in moonlight. Hardly an owl stirs.  
A cat guards the entrance - Newtpaw, I remember, though the once-small apprentice is now a newly made warrior. Tonight is Newtspeckle's warrior vigil.  
He makes no move as I pad past him. I might as well have been the wind.  
From the nursery came the hushed murmurs of mothers soothing their kits. Loud snores drifted from the elders' den. Wafting from the medicine cat's hollow is the tang of sharp herbs that mingle with the crisp coolness of the evening air.  
Yes, all is peaceful. Everything is just as I remember it. A pang of sorrow grips my heart, so sudden and wrenching that my breath stops in my throat.  
I missed this so much. Being a warrior, going on patrols, hunting, sharing tongues between morsels of warm prey, just reveling in the feeling of being _alive_. I was a good cat, wasn't I? I wanted more time. _Deserved_ more time.

  
_Get yourself together, Meadowsong,_ I scold myself.

But before that, I pay a visit to the warriors' den. My mother is fast asleep around the rising and falling bulk of my father. I stare at them a while, just to watch them sleep.

  
I am thinking that you feel it is quite creepy to do that. I also get the feeling that you are right, so I grit my teeth and force myself away.

No, my business tonight has to do with the nursery.  
I tiptoe inside, forgetting that I am only a breath on the wind, a faint scent carried through a breeze.

Lilyleaf and Sorrelstream, the queens, are fast asleep. So are each of their litters. I search for the special one, the little tom kit with black and white fur.  
Despite myself, I smile. Kits always made me soft inside. I had wanted a few when I was a warrior, but for now, I am content with watching the little one sleep.

Just as I am about to dive into his dreams to tell him about the role he shall play in saving the Clans from utter destruction, I am met with a pair of glimmering amber eyes.

"Hullo," says Badgerkit. He blinks. "Who are you?"

"Er--" Oh dear. This wasn't going according to plan. After I calm down from the shock, I whisper, "I'm a StarClan cat, and you've got a big prophecy to fulfill."

"Me?" His round eyes grow rounder. It's a good thing he isn't afraid of me. It's not often that a ghost comes to visit in the dead of night.

"Oh, yes." And without wasting anymore time, I tell him. I can see that he doesn't understand. I don't, either.

"Mmnh...Badgerkit? Who are you talking to?" It's Lilyleaf. She looks straight at me, but she doesn't see. And neither does she notice as I slip out to join the rest of the stars up in the sky.

  
I, Meadowsong, also find prophecies distasteful because they involve very small kits. Small kits who grow up with fear in their hearts and worry in their minds, who have the weight of the world on their shoulders. They don't deserve that, just as much as I don't deserve being here either.

  
But what can I do? I am just a tiny star against a sea of many other stars.


	2. Chapter 2

Sparrowkit was carried off by a hawk when he was three moons old. Though he still looked like a kit, barely reaching half the length of Meadowsong's legs, he was far, far older than she was. 

"You can't catch me!" he squealed. "I'm faster than a weasel!"

"Well, looks like this weasel will make a tasty morsel for a great big bear," Meadowsong teased, crouching down and baring her teeth playfully. He laughed and danced out of her reach. 

It was a day just like any other. The grass shimmered with small glowing things, and prey ran abundantly in the undergrowth._ Besides delivering prophecies and visiting cats in dreams, this is what StarClan does,_ Meadowsong thought. _Lounge around and enjoy ourselves. After all, the afterlife is forever. _Here, there was no hunger or sickness or border skirmishes, no elders complaining of ticks or older warriors bossing the younger ones around. Nothing here existed to threaten them, at least, not if they let them. 

"Got you!" the white she-cat announced, and pinned him down. He squeaked and wriggled in protest. After a while, she let him scamper off.

"Come on, Meadowsong!" he mewed. "Chase me!"

They ran through vast, lolling plains beneath a calm blue sky. They could run for forever if they wanted to, Meadowsong distinctly knew. Their legs would never tire. 

Finally, she lost him among tendrils of brush and ferns. Laughing, she meowed, "Looks like my dinner has gotten away! Hmm, I wonder where he could be..." There was a giggle, then a rustle as Sparrowkit dashed away again. 

Meadowsong was so lost in her thoughts, busy laughing and tailing after the kit, that it took her a while to notice that the trees were starting to thin, that the silvery sheen that blanketed everything wasn't as silver as it was before. 

"Alright, Sparrowkit, let's play something else," she mewed uncertainly, slowing to a stop. But there was no answer, not even the scuffle of tiny pawsteps. "Sparrowkit?" She wasn't concerned, not yet. But as she searched and scented the air, her heart beat faster with each passing minute.   
Unfortunately, she discovered when she'd first arrived here, StarClan wasn't without its hidden dangers. 

There was a heavy gray mist shrouding the edge of the territory, beyond which she couldn't see no matter how hard she peered. The air here was heavier, like a stone pressing on one's shoulders, weighing her down. It was quiet. There was no rustling, squeaking noises that told of prey. Nor was their birdsong in the lush treetops. Instead, in the far-off breeze came the taste of rot and mold. 

The white she-cat's fur bristled. _Don't tell me he's wandered off in there!_

"I'm not playing anymore. It's time to come out." But Sparrowkit didn't answer. _I was afraid so._

She knew what this place was, of course. The elders told stories. How once you wander into the Dark Forest, you'd lose your way back out. Even StarClan cats. That was what made her claws come out, her fur stand on end, for she must cross the misty border and find Sparrowkit. 

With each step, the warrior's body grew heavier, like trying to hobble through water. The mist clung repulsively to her pelt, choking her breath, depriving her of scent. The smell of decay grew stronger. She wrinkled her nose. The beginning of fear took root in her chest. _I'm already dead. I've got nothing to be scared of._

Pretty soon, StarClan was behind her and she was heading deeper into unknown territory. The trees here grew tall and crooked, ugly black streaks against an even darker sky. Glowing green moss grew along cracks, which she wasn't too keen to step on. _It looks like toad droppings._ The ground was a wet, sopping mess that squelched between her toes. It was something like mud but not quite mud, for it smelled not of the earth but of decay. 

Her ears perked up. She thought she caught a whiff of the kit's fear-scent. It was just a flash, but it gave her the strength to careen through the woods. 

And, in the end, she actually found him.

She also found someone else. 

The sight of the strange cat made her fur stand on end. Muscles rippled beneath a black pelt. There was a splash of white on her chest. Her amber eyes regarded her coolly, looking her up and down, and Meadowsong could tell that she was sizing her up. _Like a piece of prey, _she thought. There was an expression of what, humor? Contemplation? Malice? in her glittering gaze. 

With one paw, the stranger held Sparrowkit close to her chest. He was trembling, the poor thing, and begged her to help him with his eyes. 

Meadowsong stayed frozen to the spot. Though the Dark Forest cat's claws were sheathed, her amber eyes pinned her down. It was as though she saw everything within her. 

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was a calm, slow, slithering drawl that made Meadowsong shiver. It was like dead flies in leaf-bare. The rustling of bone-dry leaves. 

"Well, well, well. _Two_ pieces of fresh-kill in one day. I'm one lucky cat, aren't I?"

At Sparrowkit's cry of terror, Meadowsong snapped out of her fear and lunged at her, snarling. The cat doubled back, jumping backward. Her claw barely grazed a whisker. She looked as calm as ever. Her fur wasn't even ruffled. Not one strand was out of place. 

She mewed, with a twitch of her whiskers, "That wasn't very polite. You should be a bit more pleased to see me. After all, I found your kit."

Suddenly, miraculously, she let Sparrowkit go. He immediately scampered away from her grasp and hid himself behind Meadowsong's legs. _Thank StarClan! _The tension that had gripped her heart with iron-hard talons finally let go. _I hadn't expected it to be this easy. _

"Mouse got your tongue?" the other she-cat rasped coolly. 

The StarClan cat cringed away, but the tone wasn't sharp or accusing. Instead, it was the same unruffled calm that seemed to permeate the air around her. She regarded her with that unblinking amber expression. Her fur was sleek and well-groomed, Meadowsong noticed, and her tail rested neatly over her paws. Not at all like the maggot-ridden, stinking Dark Forest cats that she'd hear stories about.

She gave her chest a few awkward licks and said, "Thanks for, um, finding him for me. I was worried he'd be lost forever." _I hope she can't see me trembling. _Her body strained to spring away from this strange cat, to run back to where it was safe. Yet, strangely, nothing about her seemed ominous. She just looked like, well, a cat. 

She nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, yes. That does happen. The unfortunate souls. I've seen one or two, like sad white wisps of air moving through the trees." 

Meadowsong wanted to ask her what became of them, but the shivering brown kit between her paws made her bite her tongue. She was unnerved enough already. Sparrowkit, though he was old enough to be an elder nine times over, would have nightmares. 

Just as though she was about to leave, the other mewed, "Ah, I haven't even introduced myself." She dipped her head apologetically. "I am Ottersplash of RiverClan. What's yours?"

"I have to go. The others will be wondering where I am."

"I just want your name. No harm in that, is there?"

And her amber eyes were so clear and calm, like twin pools of lakes, that she fought with herself to keep on talking. _She could have hurt Sparrowkit if she'd wanted to. But...she didn't._

The safety of starlight was calling to her. Answering her might make it go faster. 

"Meadowsong. From ThunderClan."

Finally, she turned to pad away, expecting the fire of claws in her pelt or of teeth snapping at her ear. But they didn't come. Though she didn't dare look back, she could feel her steady gaze boring into the back of her skull, just waiting. And watching. Thankfully, the way back wasn't long. 

With a pounding heart and bristling fur, she let out a sigh of relief when she and Sparrowkit crossed back over onto the starry path. 

"Did you know her?" Sparrowkit mewed. He looked back to his old self again. 

"No idea. Let's never go back there again."

As he bounced along to match her steps, he continued, "She was nice to me. I told her I was lost, and she said she'd help."

"Yes, well, one can never trust a Dark Forest cat," Meadowsong retorted. "They're there for a reason." And yet, the black she-cat hadn't seemed menacing. Just strange and calm, as though she could read her thoughts.

Much later, Meadowsong ventured to find an old soul, Tanglewhisker, who had once been a RiverClan warrior many, many moons ago, before she was even born. Stars shimmered in his pelt.

"Ottersplash?" he rumbeled. "Aye, the queens used to tell stories of her in the nursery, but that was a long time ago. She's mostly forgotten now."

"Stories? Of what?"

His whiskers twitched in amusement. With the darkest voice he could muster, he cackled, "Stop yammering in my ear and go to sleep, little ones, or wicked Ottersplash'll take you away in her long, twisted claws!"

The Ottersplash she knew didn't have long, twisted claws. She had trimmed, neat ones, and a clean coat, as though she still cared to groom herself despite the filth and emptiness of the Dark Forest.

"She was an evil cat, you know."

"What?" Meadowsong's mind had been elsewhere.

"She killed four kits in her time."

_Ah, _she thought. She wasn't sure if she could say that she was surprised.

"What's gotten you into thinkin' of her? Her name's not mentioned much nowadays."

"It's nothing," she meowed quickly, and buried the memory of their meeting away.


	3. Chapter 3

Badgerkit grew bigger each day. He and his littermates - Pouncekit and Flightkit- were a rowdy bunch, always inclined to play.  
Meadowsong would watch closely from the shadows, carefully seeing to Badgerkit's growth, making sure he didn't get into _too _much trouble. He was old enough to become apprenticed now. The day wasn't too far away.

_Fox, badger, rat, or dog, _was what the prophecy had said. In ShadowClan, there was Foxstar, who had been leader for six moons now. There was also Houndstar of WindClan, and finally, Ratkit, who had just been born in RiverClan.  
Neither of the kits showed any promise of special powers. And it wasn't usual for prophecies to center around already-made leaders. But StarClan had collectively agreed with one voice: these  
were the cats who were meant to be.

Now, Badgerkit had accidentally gotten his paws tangled in some roots that peered out from the den's mouth. He tried to pull free and wailed for his mother. Sparing him an exasperated glance, Lilyleaf muttered to Sorrelstream about kits who cried for their queens when faced with a lizard, when they were three times bigger than the lizard itself. Despite herself, Meadowsong bristled. How dare Lilyleaf complain about the fact that she had been blessed with three healthy kits, when other cats' litters were stolen away by owls, or wasted away by greencough? Or worse, cats who could bear no kits at all. Bitterness laced her annoyance at her. 

She was interrupted from her thoughts by Featherstar's frail voice. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting." Her once-silver pelt was now as matted and dull as a leaf pile.

_Poor Featherstar_, she thought. The ThunderClan leader was certainly as old as the elders now, yet Meadowsong sensed that she still had two lives leftover to grapple with. _She was the deputy when my mother's mother was still an apprentice. It isn't long now before Boulderfur becomes our next leader. _The deputy, Boulderfur, padded to the foot of the Highledge, muscles rippling beneath his mottled fur.  
The StarClan cat searched the rest of the gathering crowd. There was her mother, Larkwing, coming back from a patrol with a rabbit in her jaws; her father, Pinefur, emerging from the medicine cat's den because of a thorn; then came her own sister Brightflower, who was flanked by Larchshade and Mossyfoot.

Lilyleaf was seated proudly in front of the nursery, her kits primly groomed and looking like tiny warriors. Badgerkit fidgeted restlessly, eyeing a butterfly at batting distance. Lilyleaf whispered something sternly in his ear.

When the murmuring of the crowd subsided, Featherstar began. Or rather, croaked. "As you all know, Newleaf has brought us health and good hunting. It's also brought us something better." She flicked a thin, trembling tail at the nursery. "Badgerkit, Pouncekit, and Flightkit, step up here." 

The three made their way toward her, Badgerkit, of course, in the lead. He cantered excitedly while the others walked, and scampered up the Highledge like a squirrel. _There's a bright, promising warrior, _came whispers from the crowd. Meadowsong watched interestingly. Perhaps he w_as_ part of the prophecy after all. 

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Meadowsong had seen it all before. First came the picking of the mentor, the listing of his or her good qualities, the head touch and shoulder lick, and finally, the chanting. She could almost see her own apprentice ceremony reflected in Badgerkit's. When she and Brightflower had been nothing but inexperienced, butterfly-brained kits in the nursery. Her view from the camp on the Highledge, seated next to Featherstar (who was younger then, but still quite old), how her little chest had swelled with so much pride it hurt. Her mentor had been Shrewwhisker, who had since died. _Such a shame he's not here right now, _she thought, wondering if she should have invited the StarClan resident to watch this with her. 

It was the chanting that drew her interest back to the scene. 

"Badgerpaw! Pouncepaw! Flightpaw!" her Clanmates cried out. Of the three, Badgerpaw looked the most smug. Beside him sat a brown and white tom. 

Mudpuddle. Featherstar couldn't have chosen a finer cat to be Badgerpaw's mentor.

Leaving the ceremony behind, she turned away. There was nothing much to see now. All she needed to do was watch the kit grow up, seeing that he stuck to his divine path. Half of the job was already done. She made her way back to StarClan.

StarClan cats didn't hunt in the land of the living because the prey would just slide through their paws like water. Instead, she searched around the starry ferns until she managed to pin down an equally starry vole. Back when she had been newly dead, she marveled at how _real_ it felt: the frantic squeak, abruptly cut off; the warmth fading from the small rodent's body; the taste of blood and flesh on her tongue. If _real _prey had been tasty, StarClan's was even moreso. And they never, ever ran out.

But this vole wasn't for her. She glanced around quickly. Finding no one nearby, she snatched it into her jaws and began at a hurried pace, walking and then finally bounding from landscape to landscape. Whenever she caught wind of a familiar scent, she flattened herself beneath a bush and waited for the cat to pass, before once again continuing at a frenzied pace.  
She had to hurry. Perhaps if she simply carried on at a leisurely stroll, she wouldn't seem so suspicious. But with each passing second, she knew, she might turn around and change her mind. That was why she hurried.

Finally, she skidded to a halt at the place where she had lost Sparrowkit many moons ago. The riff between the stars and the shadows. The border at the edge of StarClan. Beyond it lay the thick mist that smelled of nothing in particular except for water and of deep, dark, and forgotten corners.

She inhaled a deep breath. Steadied her pounding heartbeat. With renewed courage at the feel of the vole's fur in her mouth, she took a hesitant step over the border. Then another. And another, until her whole body was wrapped in mist and beyond her lay the waiting, silent claws of the Dark Forest.

_I am a mouse-brain, _she thought. With one last pitiful glance behind her, she wrenched her body forward to continue on her path.

* * *

_This is the bramble patch I passed when I went to find Sparrowkit. I think, at least. Oh, they all look the same to me! _She clamped her jaws tight to keep a frightened mewl from leaking out. She couldn't bring herself to agree that she was most undoubtedly lost, though her heart knew the truth. The spindly black trees towered above her like gigantic claws. Sickeningly green fungus spewed from their roots and glowed eerily in the bleary darkness. Back in StarClan, she could always sense her Clanmates nearby. Here, there was nothing. It was as though a hole had opened up and sucked all the life out of here.

Pawsteps shuffled behind her. Or was that merely the groaning of a branch? Either way, she whirled around, fear spiking the fur of her back. "Ottersplash?"

She saw nothing. Then came a horrific screeching, rotten breath in her ear, and a cat hurtled itself at her with breathtaking speed. She flew back into a tree trunk with so much ferocity that she feared something might break. Pain lanced her shoulder. One thing that disappointed her about StarClan was that pain still existed there. It just wasn't _fair._  
She rolled away seconds before a claw came down where her head should have been.

They rounded on each other, hissing. Now she could see that it wasn't Ottersplash. This cat was a tom. Scars laced his face. There was an evilness in his eyes that made her shudder. There was no warmth to be found there, not even a spark. A dirty stench clung to his fur. It reminded her of cobwebs and rats and heavy night rain.

He sprung again, but this time, she was prepared. She landed a blow to his ear that made him yowl. _Oh, no._ With a lightning fast move, he raked his claws along her face. She felt her skin rip and tear. Warmth trickled down her chin. For a frightening moment she was blinded by her own blood, and lashed out wherever she thought he might be.

Then came another cat's angry snarl. It sounded oddly familiar, but Meadowsong was much too winded to think about why. Hastily wiping her face with her paw, she blinked blearily to see a black she-cat - a splash of white on her chest - pinning down the wriggling tom.

"Mouseheart," said Ottersplash's voice. It dripped with an frosty coldness, like ice on stone. The tom jerked free of her grip and backed away, still snarling.

"I smelled _her_!" he spat. "A StarClan cat. What's one of them doing out here?"

Seeing no response other than Ottersplash's chilling stare, he turned tail and ran, vanishing among the black trees.

The Dark Forest cat spared a look at Meadowsong, then sat down and began grooming herself. "It's nothing personal," she rasped between licks. "He's like that with every cat." Her voice, Meadowsong noticed, lessened its ice somewhat when she spoke to her. In all the five moons that had passed, they were face to face once again. This time on purpose. 

She continued to groom herself as though she were in a den, instead of having just broken up a battle. Only when she noticed Meadowsong still standing, mouth agape and fur ruffled, did she lower her paw with a bored air.

"Well?" the black she-cat meowed. "I've saved your pelt twice so far. Well, I suppose the kit didn't count, but it's twice that we've crossed paths, haven't we?" Her whiskers twitched, but with annoyance or amusement, Meadowsong couldn't tell. "It's just like the first time. Mouse got your tongue again?"

At that, Meadowsong snapped to attention. "Yes! I-I mean no! I mean, what I meant to say is, I came looking for you."

"For me?" If she was surprised, she didn't show it. Meadowsong felt crestfallen. _So she didn't expect to see me again after all._

"To thank you. For Sparrowkit. And I even brought you a gift." She searched around frantically, but when her gaze settled on the dirtied scrap of fur thrown on the muddy ground, her shoulders drooped. "It was meant to be a vole. I was told there wasn't any prey in the Dark Forest."

Ottersplash padded forward to stand beside her, where they both stood looking down at it. "Well," the cat finally mewed, and this time the corners of her mouth _did_ twitch to form the hint of a smile. "I don't have much of an appetite these days anyway. There's one flaw that StarClan didn't think of when they built this place: no cat feels hunger here, either."  
At this, Meadowsong's ears perked up in surprise. "StarClan made the Dark Forest?" She couldn't imagine that they could ever envision such a soggy, dreary, and evil place as this.

Ottersplash slowly turned her head to look at her. It was the first time they stood this close, side by side, and gazed at each other fully. Meadowsong saw her reflection in those calm amber eyes. Saw her own green ones staring back at her. She also noticed that Mouseheart had dealt her a nasty scratch above her eye and another below it, both of which were lazily oozing blood.  
Embarrassed at her mess, she began to lick her paw and draw it over them. Her fur prickled self-consciously as the other cat continued to stare.

"You'll never get it clean like that," Ottersplash said, with a hint of disgust. Before Meadowsong could protest, she was rasping her tongue against her cheek. She cringed, expecting a billow of rotten breath like Mouseheart's. But there was none. It smelled of nothing at all.

"Good. It's stopped bleeding." She turned and stalked away. Meadowsong's ears drooped, and she wondered if she had done something wrong to draw the other cat away. But she didn't have to wait long. The black she-cat returned with a scrap of cobweb in her jaws, which she placed over the scratches. It hurt, but she didn't dare wriggle, worried that she might leave again.

Ottersplash's eyes glittered. "I'd get some marigold or horsetail if there were any growing here, but this'll do."

The white StarClan warrior gingerly felt her wounds with her paw. Momentarily, she was back in the medicine den on a bed of moss, feeling a dressed cut after she'd been scratched at by a fox on patrol.  
"It's good," she mewed, after the memory faded. She was pleasantly surprised. "It's just like Birchheart used to do for me."

"Birchheart?"

"He's the ThunderClan medicine cat. Apprentice, actually. Beetlewing's his mentor."

"Of course," Ottersplash purred. It sounded rusty and far away, as though this was the first time in a long while that she had purred. "I was a medicine cat once."

Her claws dug into the earth. _What?_ She wasn't sure if she heard right. Tanglewhisker hadn't mentioned that. She didn't even know that medicine cats got sent to the Dark Forest, ever. Didn't they share a special connection with StarClan that no other cat had? Weren't they supposed to save cats, instead of harming them?

Otterspring continued, "Did your wise elders miss that detail about me when you asked?"

Meadowsong glared at her. "How did you know? Were you spying on me?"

There came the tilt in her mouth again, the almost-smile. "Of course not. I can't leave this place. But I did know that, after meeting me, you were too curious to not ask. It's not often that a StarClan cat and Dark Forest cat meet face to face, is it?"

The white she-cat could only look at her, claws still unsheathed. Her hackles began to bristle. _She killed four kits,_ Tanglewhisker had said. Four kits who were too harmless, too small to be a danger to any cat. How did they die? Were they brutally ripped apart until blood reddened the nursery floor? Left to writhe and gurgle, their mewls weakening until silence? For possibly the first time, Meadowsong realized, with growing horror, that Ottersplash was truly dangerous. Cats didn't get sent here for nothing. And what she'd done, medicine cat or no medicine cat, was one of the worst.

As though she could read her mind (and suppose she could, Meadowsong thought), Ottersplash only shrugged and began padding back into the depths of the forest. Her black pelt nearly blended in, save for her rippling white chest, glowing like a feather caught in the branches.

"You're just going to leave?" Meadowsong yowled in dismay. "Well, good riddance to you! I should have never come here!"

Ottersplash chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant sound. Not pleasant at all. She kicked at the scrap of vole. _The one I caught for her._ "The kit that came teetering to my paws back then sure did look as tasty as prey. Sparrowkit, was it? I could have eaten him up right there and then."

"Stop it," Meadowsong growled. "I mean it."

"I wonder what they say about me. The nursery stories that scare kits into behaving surely call me a hungry spirit that prowls the night, looking for naughty ones to take away." Before she slipped away into the darkness, out of sight, she stopped. But didn't glance back at her with those cold, amber eyes. "Goodbye, Meadowsong."

And the black cat left, swallowed up by the Dark Forest.


	4. Chapter 4

Meadowsong felt mopey. She had been for at least a moon now. Not even Sparrowkit could chase away her gloom. All she wanted to do was lay in her nest, dozing half her days away. And she could do it without a warrior prodding her pelt, telling her the fresh-kill pile needed stocking. She could sleep for moons if she wanted to. She could almost say that she was sick, except no sickness existed here.

She knew exactly what the problem was, but refused to let herself think it.

Then came the prodding.

"Wake up," Berrystar rasped. He looked puzzled. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately, Meadowsong, but there's a prophecy at stake here. It's your job to look over Badgerpaw and make sure he's following his destiny. I haven't seen you do much except roll over and, occasionally, sneeze."

When she made no response, he continued, "Unless you want me to find some other cat to do it."

_Sure,_ she thought irritably. _Okay_. Doesn't make a difference to me. She wasn't even sure _why_ she was chosen for it in the first place. She wasn't as old as the other starry warriors, and Badgerpaw wasn't even her kin.

He made an annoyed noise above her and she braced herself for an incoming rant, before the former ThunderClan leader suddenly sighed.

"I know you're finding it hard to settle in here, Meadowsong," he mewed. "No cat blames you for that. We all needed some time getting used to StarClan when we first arrived here too. You were a young warrior. You didn't deserve to be robbed of the seasons you should have had in life." Meadowsong blinked. Sadness threatened to tip her over, but she forced it at bay.

Berrystar continued, "But no matter how hard we wail and plead, even StarClan can't turn back time. We must live with - er, deal with - what ever comes our way. And _our _role, as StarClan, is to watch over the living." His eyes were pleading. "Surely you can do that?"

Meadowsong let out a heavy sigh that was halfway a groan. "Alright, alright. Keep your fur on and stop bugging me, will you?" Irritability made her tongue sharp. She wouldn't have spoken to a former leader that way otherwise. It was only the fact that she had nothing else to lose.

Heaving herself to her paws, not even bothering to groom herself, she sauntered on downward.

It was night. Stars glittered up above. It was a half-moon, she noted, and the medicine cats would be sharing tongues with StarClan now. She had never been to one of the meetings, but perhaps it was very boring.

_This doesn't smell like ThunderClan._ Instead, it was the sharp, acrid tang of pine needles and fallen logs. The territory was unfamiliar, but as she pressed onward, saw a patrol of cats and realized it to be ShadowClan. Only ShadowClan would still be awake at night. There seemed to be turmoil up ahead. Forgetting her grogginess, she perked her ears up and followed the cats.

The ShadowClan camp spread out before her. It looked much like ThunderClan, except the Highledge was a tree stump, the nursery was an abandoned badger set, and the leader's den was hidden away in a hole between the tree stump's roots. Foxstar, the ShadowClan leader, was there now, and her reddish-brown fur was bristling angrily. She was glaring straight at her. For a split second, Meadowsong wondered if _she _was the one in trouble, before hearing yowls and snarls behind her. She turned and saw a sleek, pale brown tom flanked by two angry ShadowClan warriors.

It was Houndstar. She recognized the WindClan leader, and a faint surprised stirred within her. _What is he doing in ShadowClan territory?_ she wondered. She scanned the clearing, but he hadn't come with any of his own warriors. It was just him.

Foxstar was speaking now. "Houndstar, you mange-pelt! Is it true that Toadleap and Specklefur caught you hunting a rabbit on _our _land?" To any other cat, Foxstar would look downright scary with her tail fluffed out and green eyes ablaze.

Houndstar shrugged. In a measured voice, he replied, "It was a WindClan rabbit. I was merely following it, and must have crossed the border by accident. Perhaps if your cats had laid down their scentmarks properly, we wouldn't be having this issue." Was Meadowsong imagining it, or was there a lilt to his voice, a mischievousness in his eye?

The ShadowClan warriors yowled in defiance.

"Filthy prey-stealer!"

"Let's rip his fur off and feed him to the crows!"

"We'll sharpen our claws on his bones! Teach him a lesson he'll never forget!"

Meadowsong knew that those were only fighting words, meant to scare away outsiders. Despite their venom and ferocity, none would attack without their leader's call.

Foxstar and Houndstar were standing head to head, the she-cat looking as though she could barely hold herself back from scoring her claws across the the other's back, the tom only looking collected and smug. Meadowsong felt confused. It was almost as though Houndstar had gotten himself in trouble on purpose.

Tail lashing, Foxstar announced that Houndstar was imprisoned in their camp until she had thought of what to do with him, leader or no leader. When the meeting finally dispersed, though tension still buzzed tightly in the air, the StarClan she-cat sensed someone materialize beside her.

Stars glittered in his half-glowing pelt, and she could see the forest _through _him. Nettlesting. He'd been the ShadowClan deputy once, and would have been leader if greencough hadn't taken him away. He was still bitter about it, and she guessed that _that _was the reason why he was so hard to be around.

"It's almost as if he stumbled his paws into ShadowClan on purpose," he sniffed.

"That's what I was thinking as well."

He scowled. "Look, now. She appointed Ravenwing for guard duty. We both know Ravenwing's got bees in her brain and will fall asleep before long."

"That's true."

"There it is. I think there's something going on here. Something that shouldn't be." Just as he said, it was now the middle of the night and Ravenwing was sleeping with a tail tucked over her nose. There was no movement except the gentle rising and falling of her side. Then, quietly, the pale shape of Houndstar slipped out of confinement and tred on quiet cat feet across the clearing. He hid from the the guards outside the camp and, in a few bounds, was up and away.

Both Nettlesting and Meadowsong got up to follow. A growing sense of unease weighed heavily on her shoulders. To her dismay, instead of escaping to WindClan territory, he veered away and sat hunched over at the edge of the Lake, staring into his reflection.

"I don't understand," she said. Nettlesting only huffed in response.

The reeds parted and Foxstar stepped out. She winced, expecting them to explode in a cloud of flying teeth and claws, but no such thing happened. Houndstar nuzzled his head under her chin and started purring! The ShadowClan leader ought to have clawed his ears off for that. Should have. But didn't.

"You've been sticking your tail in my land too many times," she hissed softly. "It's only a matter of time before my warriors shred you on sight. You're lucky that didn't happen today."

"I see you're still as much of a grumpy badger as ever," he replied, smiling. In the moonlight, Meadowsong thought she saw their tails twine together.

"And you're still as dumb as a rock," came the response. "It's out of bounds, even for you. If you want to see me, wait for the Gathering."

He sighed mournfully. "Only once a moon? I might forget the feel of your fur against mine." He batted her muzzle playfully but she jerked away, scowling. "You might feel my claws against _your _fur next time if you keep this up. I can't bail you out every time you decide to prance around here." She narrowed her eyes. "Do your Clanmates know where you are right now?"

"No. I told Flowerstep I went out on my nightly walk. She knows it's an old habit of mine." Flowerstep was his deputy.

Turning her focus away from the two, Meadowsong looked helplessly at Nettlesting. He bared his teeth, hackles raised and eyes blazing.

"What do they think they're doing!" he snarled. "They're going to bring the wrath of StarClan raining on their heads if they keep this up!" Meadowsong stared at him, bewildered at the ferocity of his outburst.

"They've done no harm yet. Look at how happy they look! Perhaps it'll bring moons of peace for both Clans."

"Peace?" The tom was now pacing in circles. "This is against the warrior code. Against StarClan. And they're more than just warriors. They are _leaders! _I'm sending Foxstar a dream tonight to tell her what a mouse brain she is."

She stood up to him, eyes hardening to match his glare. "I think you're taking this too far. Their friendship does break the rules, but -"

He rounded on her, whisker to whisker, nose to nose. She could see the sharpness of his teeth.

"Listen," he growled. "Foxstar is one of the cats of the prophecy. I was appointed to watch over her, not you, so keep your nose out of my business. You've got your own kit to look after." He gave her, and then the two cats in the background, one last disdainful huff before disappearing over the treetops.

Houndstar and Foxstar were still talking.

"- and I'll think of you with each waking moment," Houndstar was mewing flirtatiously, flicking his tail against her face. Meadowsong was relieved to see that he was leaving at last. Both her and Foxstar watched as the tom grew smaller and smaller in the distance until he could be seen no more.

Perhaps it was just the moonlight. But Foxstar's hard features were softer now, her eyes less like flint. She had a faraway, dreaming look to her face. It was the first time Meadowsong had seen her without a scowl as though she had smelled crowfood.

Foxstar glanced around, searching for any cats that had eavesdropped, and then she too was hurrying back to her Clan. Meadowsong stayed a while longer. She wasn't ready to leave just yet, instead huddling among the pine needles and listening to the crickets chirp around her. Nettlesting's yowl echoed again and again. _They're going to bring the wrath of StarClan raining on their heads!_

Perhaps they would. Perhaps they wouldn't. Meadowsong couldn't help but wonder: if Nettlesting and the rest of them discovered that she had talked to Ottersplash, that she had _wanted _to talk to her, would they rain their wrath on her head as well?


End file.
